


Cold Hearts Burning Bright

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [26]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (but no actual death), Angst with a Happy Ending, Because there are, Cuddles, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Happy Ending, Have I said that there are cuddles?, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Thinking About Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: But what else was Dick supposed to do? Tell his baby brother –his kid– that they were most likely going to freeze to death? That their survival was tied to the wind and the snow and the ice not managing to invade a building so old it had the structural integrity of a Gotham warehouse?Dick didn’t even want to face these facts himself – he wasn’t going to impose them on Damian.Or: Dick and Damian are on a trainings mission -vacation- in Siberia, when the blizzard hits. With no way to contact the League, they settle down to wait out the storm and hope to survive.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: Whumptober2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 24
Kudos: 287
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Cold Hearts Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Hello and welcome to another Whumptober installment! :D  
> This one is for Syn, even if I am sure they have almost forgotten about it!  
> ENJOY DICK AND DAMIAN BONDING AND A HAPPY END!!
> 
> Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks make me extremely happy and help me out! <3<3<3

“Do you think the storm will hit us?”

Damian’s voice was silent next to him, barely a whisper of air against the frigid cold holding them hostage. The mission to Siberia in the winter had been nothing more than a training exercise, something Bruce sent them on to give Dick some well needed time away from Gotham and to make sure that Damian didn’t get in the way – of danger – during the most recent case of missing children.

Nothing happened in Siberia during the winter. Not even the people native to this part of the world enjoyed the long and extremely cold winters so much that they ventured in the most northern part of the country. There was only ice and snow and the occasional wandering fox in these woods.

Not that Damian knew that.

Bruce had told the youngest bird decorating the Gotham night sky, that this was a trainings mission, that there was some intel that desperately needed to be gathered. And they had found some intel days ago, back when they found the abandoned Soviet base hidden in the ice. The problem was that the information they had found was forty years old and effectively useless.

(Not that Dick was sure what Batman would need Cold War documents for anyway – he was freaking Batman and not the UN)

But before they could leave again – Damian adamant that there was something else hidden in the eroding concrete bunker – the first wave of extreme cold had hit their hide out. And their plane. And most of their gear.

The extreme closeness to the North Pole had made communication extremely hard even before the weather decided to play them a trick, but now the cold made it impossible to reach anyone – the radio only displayed static and the Justice League satellites didn’t seem to get their signal.

They were cut off.

Dick had noticed that rather quickly. And he had remained calm those first few hours, maybe even the first day, but when he had checked their plane, the fuel had frozen solid and the batteries of the aircraft had lost their charge due to fucking physics and the fact that extreme cold tended to do that to lithium. Even if it shouldn’t have done that to the Bat-plane.

Well, should was a nice word when everything had gone to shit anyways.

But now they were stuck. They were stuck in the most northern woods of the Siberian tundra in an old Soviet bunker with no heating and no way to contact anyone. What a great vacation that was. What a great way to spend some time away from Gotham and its special kind of crazy.

And yet Dick had tried to remain cheerful, he had cuddled with Damian against the walls of the bunker, the old building offering protection from the wind if nothing more, and he had told him stories of days past.

He told Damian of his own first night as Robin, of the trials and errors Bruce had to endure before Robin could fly safely and happily, and he told him of Bruce’s first night as Batman, and the fact that Bruce nearly died. He told him of giant fails and funny successes… but after a while even he began to run out of words.

That was before this morning.

Dick had planned on trying to radio someone—he would even take the local government at this point. This afternoon, when the magnetic waves of the North Pole would be at their weakest (according to his math), he’d make an effort to organize an extraction for them. Damian glanced out of the small window opposite from their favorite wall, where he was huddled against, and said:

“Do you think the storm will hit us?”

Dick’s stomach had dropped even before he’d managed to look out of the window, but now, staring at the giant grey clouds building up higher and higher over the wind swayed trees, he wanted to throw up.

Because, yes, the storm would hit them.

And Dick wasn’t sure if they had the equipment to endure it. To survive it.

Their gear was made for extreme temperatures, both Dick and Damian clad in the arctic versions of their costumes, but a blizzard made out of ice was nothing even the top tech of Wayne Enterprise’s R&D department could withstand for long. Especially not since Dick had started rationing their food the moment he’d noticed the radios not working and now hunger clawed on their stomach linings.

Especially since the both of them were no longer powered by adrenaline and muscles warm from a fight – no, they had been stagnant for two days by now, every bit of heat they were able to generate achieved by the two of them hugging and cuddling and clinging to each other.

The building would protect them at least a little bit, Dick hoped. It should offer at least enough protection to ensure their survival, to ensure that giving up hope now, would be too soon. Because Dick wanted to keep on hoping, he wanted to keep on going forward.

(he didn’t want to die – and he wanted Damian to die even less)

So, they would probably survive. They might lose a finger or a limb – and Dick really, really hoped that that was not the case – but they would survive. They would wake up on the other side, and they would… overcome this hardship.

At least that’s what he told himself.

And it was what he told Damian:

“Probably, Baby Bat. So, let’s gather our stuff and move to that corner over there. We should be safe from the worst of the wind in here. And then we can wait the storm out. If we cuddle a bit, it is basically like movie night in the penthouse.”

Damian’s answering scowl told Dick everything he needed to know: Damian was well aware of what this storm would mean for them. Damian knew what their chances were, and he didn’t like them any better than Dick did.

But what else was Dick supposed to do? Tell his baby brother – _his kid_ – that they were most likely going to freeze to death? That their survival was tied to the wind and the snow and the ice not managing to invade a building so old it had the structural integrity of a Gotham warehouse?

Dick didn’t even want to face these facts himself – he wasn’t going to impose them on Damian.

Instead, they carried their gear and equipment towards the most protected corner of the bunker, building an extra wall between them and the outside world. An outside world that wanted to kill them. For a moment Dick toyed with the idea of hiding in the Bat-plane, but while it was more sturdy and better isolated than this, it was also a military grade aircraft and made out of metal – it didn’t offer any comforts, it only offered frozen steel.

Bruce would come for them soon, Dick hoped. He would have to come soon – Dick and Damian had been supposed to return home a day ago, their trip only stretching four days. It was a short vacation, but Dick didn’t know any vigilante or hero that was capable of spending more time away from _the life_.

 _Bruce would come_.

Dick repeated the sentiment over and over.

The only question was if he would reach them in time. If he would reach them before the storm claimed them.

Dick pressed Damian against his chest, feeling the rabid heartbeat of the smaller body, the wisps of warmth that managed to escape the layers of protective gear. Their faces were laying bare, besides the googles protecting their eyes and the padded hoods covering their heads, which meant that Dick was able to keep watch. Watch over the both of them. Watch over the storm.

Damian had found the emergency blankets in the Bat-plane, and Dick built them up so they surrounded them, making sure that the walls enclosing them from two sides couldn’t seep away more of their body heat than absolutely necessary.

They had done all that just to protect themselves from the normal cold that inhabited these latitudinal lines, and yet it wasn’t enough. They were cold. They were freezing. The storm hadn’t even hit them yet.

The only thing they could do now, was wait for the blizzard.

And, by God, did the storm hit them.

The first gust of wind hit the concrete exterior of their hide out with a bang so loud, Dick felt it in his bones. Damian pressed himself closer, and Dick chose to ignore the shaking taking hold of the kid’s shoulders. It would only embarrass Damian should Dick offer his comfort now – and it would have to get worse before there was any hope of this shitshow getting any better – and Dick didn’t want to make this any worse for Damian than it already was.

They were silent as the wind continued to tear apart the world around them, and they kept their mouths shut and their eyes open as the storm raged on. Dick could feel the temperature drop even lower, could feel the last bit of warmth escape from their cocoon, and he knew that their chances were bleeding away.

He didn’t have to look at the blue tinging Damian’s lips, or feel the trembling take hold of his own body to know that. He didn’t have to watch ice crystals appear on the outside of the blanket hiding them away, to know that their survival was more than unlikely.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity and Dick was afraid.

He was terribly, terribly afraid because there was nothing he could do to change their situation, besides cling to Damian’s silently shaking body and hope for the best.

Another gust of wind and ice hit the bunker, shattering the only remaining window in the building. It was the window, Damian had watched the storm approach from earlier. This time Damian wasn’t silent, no, he tightened his hold on Dick’s torso with a shriek of panic and pain.

Dick’s heart was breaking. It hurt to know that his little brother, his Baby Bat, was suffering and there was nothing Dick could do to offer comfort. Or, maybe that was wrong. There was something Dick could do, as inconsequential as it felt. Dick pulled Damian closer, tucking the smaller head under his chin, and started to whisper sweet nothings:

“Hey, Little One, it will be okay. It will be alright. That was just the wind. It can’t hurt you. It can’t touch you. I am here. I am here with you. I am here for you.”

Damian seemed to calm down somewhat, even though Dick couldn’t be sure if he had heard him over the howling of the storm. Dick hoped he had. Neither of them needed the added pain of suffering through this in silence. The ice shouldn’t be able to take their companionship from them as well.

So, Dick pressed his cold lips against the top of Damian’s head, hoping that the younger boy could feel them. That Damian knew that Dick was here.

He was surprised when he heard Damian’s voice, scratchy from the cold:

“We are going to die out here, aren’t we?”

“I hope not, Baby Bat, I hope not---”

Where once upon a time Dick had tried to protect Damian from this, he no longer had the strength to do so. It would be futile anyway. Damian wasn’t dumb, he could feel the cold, he could see the trembling, he could do the math and realize that at this rate they would be dead before noon.

He shouldn’t have lied to Damian the first place either, it hadn’t even worked back then, Damian seeing right through him from the beginning. All his lie had achieved was to make his admission now so much worse. Because Damian had known that Dick had lied – but he still had had the hope that Dick was telling the truth.

That was no longer the case.

Their hope was running out fast, and next to warmth that was the one thing they didn’t have enough off.

The screaming of wind getting caught in trees – the icy glare of pure cold breaking concrete – was the background music to their demise. Damian was so small against his chest, Dick thought. So small and easy to break. So young and yet so old.

He loved this child. That was no secret, of course, his love for Damian the one thing Dick made sure the boy could always count on. But looking at the small form huddled against him for warmth and protection, Dick’s heart ached with the giant amount of affection he held for this child. This kid. _His kid._

Soon the shaking and trembling would die down, as the second stage of hypothermia set in, and then both of them would be too cold to really talk. Their neurons would start misfiring, telling them that they were experiencing extreme heat instead of cold, and they would try to free themselves from their protective layers. Most likely, they wouldn’t actually manage to do that, Dick’s fingers already so numb he could barely feel Damian’s bony shoulders beneath them.

Soon there would be nothing left for Dick to do.

But right now he could still talk, no matter how much it burned his throat, no matter how deadly the freezing air felt when he breathed it in.

He made sure his mouth was next to Damian’s ears, his voice precise but not loud. He didn’t have the strength to yell and rage against the storm, all he could offer were whispers of comfort:

“I have you, Damian, I am here. Did I ever tell you about the first winter in my time as Nightwing?”

Damian’s answering “no” was a wisp of warmth against his neck, before the water in Damian’s breath froze and left ice crystals on Dick’s skin.

“It was still my first design-“

“The Discowing?”

“Exactly. Though I have to let you know that it wasn’t me who originally designed it. That was Alfred – he loves the drama just as much as I do.”

Dick could see Damian smile, even though the face of his Baby Bat was hidden from him. He could see it because he knew this child and he knew what Damian found funny and what made him smile fondly. He knew it because he had spent the last three years of his life getting to know this child like he had never known anyone before.

“And… and it had this really low neckline – hey! That was fashion back then! – and... later I had a winter uniform, one that was almost as lame as this one, but my very first winter I hadn’t dared to ask Alfred yet to make me one. Instead I went out onto the streets of Blüdhaven and New York with my pecks exposed.”

Damian huddled closer, his movements tired and sluggish. Dick could feel the cold dragging him under as well, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He couldn’t. They had managed to get this far; he would keep on holding on.

“And then one day, Freeze decided to attack the Blüd instead of Gotham and I decided to take him on.”

Dick was no longer trembling, his limbs heavy, heavy, heavy…

Damian was still against his chest. But little puffs of icy air against his neck told Dick that Damian was still alive, that he was just quiet. Just silent. Just calm. _Not dead_.

Damian wasn’t allowed to die.

“And I had… I had long hair back then, really fancy, really cool. And you know… Freeze is an ice villain. He had ice guns…”

It grew harder to focus, harder to remember what story he was telling. A shiver of uncomfortable heat was rolling over his skin, but Dick resisted the urge to let his body breathe, to free himself from the clothes pressing down on him. Holding Damian tight in his arms was more important. Hugging Damian with all his might was the only thing he was capable of doing.

“And we were fighting… I am pretty sure we were fighting…”

The ice was burning his lungs. It felt like fire. It tasted like death.

“We were fighting, and I was cold… so cold… Freeze noticed me shivering and then he stopped his attack and… and he… he made one of his henchmen give me a coat, before we continued fighting…”

Dick let a puff of laughter escape, ignoring the ice he cried. It was cold. And hot. And Damian was so silent.

“Did you hear that, Baby Bat?”

“I don’t want to die.”

Damian had answered, or maybe Dick was just imagining things, but a voice had come and asked for his guidance. His own arms barely followed his command when he ordered them to rub Damian’s back, and the boy didn’t move either when Dick tried – and failed – to press them even closer together.

“Shh… I am here. I am here, Baby Bat… and I love you.”

“ ’ove you, too”

A mumble of words Dick’s heart craved like sugar, and yet they only intensified this feeling of doom. Dick wanted… he wanted to do… something. But it was too warm for that. To hot and sticky and burning. He pressed his eyes closed, Damian’s face hidden in his neck, their bodies impossible close in a hug worthy of the dying.

The storm had fallen silent around them, but that no longer mattered, because they had fallen silent as well.

And then the sound of heavy boots on freshly fallen snow cut through the silence, the cold quiet of the arctic being disrupted by the sweet promise of rescue.

Dick wanted to look, to pry his eyes open – and when had he closed them? – but he was too tired to even really try. But his ears were still working, his heart still hanging onto this last tendril of hope.

“B! I found them! Come quick!”

Tim.

His little brother.

“I am coming, Red Robin.”

Bruce.

_Dad._

They had come.

Dick and Damian were safe.


End file.
